


It Wasn't Fate But Decision

by osmiasis



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Rescue Missions, connor is the most stubborn deviant, no y/n bc i dont like that, thank you and goodnight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-10 08:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15287304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osmiasis/pseuds/osmiasis
Summary: Days after locating and chasing the deviant Rupert and subsequently being kidnapped at gunpoint, the DPD manages to decode the journal found at the scene and you're the first officer to volunteer for the rescue mission of the RK800 'Connor'.





	It Wasn't Fate But Decision

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song 'Origami' by Capital Cities.

You practically crashed through the door in your haste to find Connor, throwing up dust that clouded your vision momentarily. You barely registered the orders of the SWAT team behind you, Hank yelling that the area wasn’t secure. Blood rushed in your ears because _it didn’t matter. He’s got to be here. He has to._

It was the fifth and final location in Rupert’s journal. _It had to be right._ You didn’t want to think about if you were wrong. If he _wasn’t_ there and you’d been chasing the wrong decryption the whole time, while he was bleeding out in-

But he _was_ there _._ Slumped in a chair in the centre of the room. Breathing. _Alive._ You released a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

Until you took in the sight in front of you and it caught right back in your throat.

Connor was alive, yes, but only just. He was tied to the chair, hands bound behind the backrest, even his feet looked hastily secured to the chairs legs. Blue stained the cushion where thirium dripped from a nasty gash on his thigh, complimented by another leaking wound just below his hairline on the right side of his forehead. Deep blue splotches were littered in countless places on his body, namely a dark navy bruise right below his left eye. The plastic underneath looked _disfigured._ His hair was matted with thirium and mud, a piece fell over his left eye in his signature hairstyle. He looked beaten and bloodied. 

Still, he looked like a saint.

Sunlight streamed in from a shattered window illuminating fragments of his crumpled figure. The light gave him a soft halo, shining on his hair. He looked so invincible the last time you'd noticed that light. Patiently waiting for Hank to finish his breakfast so they could take Sumo for a ride in the car on their day off. His LED swirled in soft blue. The smile he shot at you then made your knees weak when he noticed you staring. It was perfect. It was real. It was _home._

You’d seen him beaten up so many times now. Its almost his natural state at this point. He was never afraid, however. Never cowered. Always calm. He faced it all with determination, despite the blatant threat to his life.

The only thing wrong with this scene was the violent red circle on his temple.

You’d never seen Connor’s LED any other colour than blue or yellow, even when he had a gun pointed to his head. It made your insides curl.

Once you remembered to move your legs you were stumbling over to him, gently taking his face in your hands. His expression was too peaceful, like he was dreaming. Androids don’t dream, and they certainly don’t sleep.

“Connor! Connor please! _Please…”_ You begged, softly shaking his shoulders, tears stung behind your eyes, “Wake _up…_ ” 

He stirred in your grasp, blearily cracking open both eyes and squinting at the harsh sun. He shook, testing the restraints as SWAT members swarmed into the room behind you. You could see the overload of information inside him, frantically whipping his head in every direction to assess the situation until you spoke to him.

“Connor! Hey, its me. It’s alright, you’re safe. You’re safe, I’m here,” he snapped his eyes to yours at the sound of your voice, and you watched as he processed everything, his breathing calming to a heavy pant, and you finally stole a look into his eyes.

You saw fear.

Connor was _terrified._

Connor was a deviant and he didn’t even know it.

It took a few seconds for him to respond, “Detective… it’s good to see you…” his voice modulator was damaged, making his voice sound fuzzy and static. Even more robotic than usual. It didn’t mask the shakiness of his speech. You tried to smile at him, but you feared it was more of a grimace.

_He’s alive he’s alive he’s alive._ Repeated over and over in your head like a mantra as you fumbled with the knot on the ropes. Connor had mostly calmed by now, looking at the faces of each person in the room, likely scanning them to add to a report for CyberLife.

You finally untied him from the chair, pointedly _not_ thinking about the fact that Connor is a-

“He’s here? Good.”

Hank rounded the corner into the room after apparently securing the other rooms in the shabby building, effectively pulling you from your thoughts

“Come on, the place might be empty, but it doesn’t mean we’re clear yet.” Hank grunted, helping Connor stand. You followed suit, breathing deeply, trying to calm yourself. Connor shot a grateful look your way for a brief moment before Hank stoically hauled him to safety. After a little over a year of working with the Lieutenant, you gathered he had his own ways of caring for people. It usually meant dragging them out of the line of fire with a hardened expression.

You’d been in the same position not too long ago yourself. 

 

* * *

 

Connor’s LED hadn’t changed since you found him.

It didn’t bother him, though, or perhaps he hadn’t noticed. Every human eye in the group kept glancing nervously at it, as if that tiny light were some power to foresee danger. The ride back to the station was… tense, to say the least.

It was uneventful as well. No deviants came charging from the shadows, no bothersome protesters or particularly threatening looking pedestrians. Just the sound of Connor’s prototype body slowly repairing itself and the crunching of ice beneath the tires.

You could feel the cold inside the department even worse than outside. Hank grunted occasionally, eyeing the red circle as Connor described what happened. His eyes were downcast, you can tell he blamed himself for Connor's kidnapping, just like he blamed himself for Cole’s death. They weren’t exactly friends, but if Connor had chased Rupert instead of helping Hank up onto the building they wouldn’t be here now. Despite that, the relief in Hank’s posture was there, if masked by folded arms and a stony expression.

“It’s still red, you know,” Connor looked up at him, cut off from graphically describing exactly how he received the wound in his leg. “your LED is still red, what does that mean?”

“Oh, that’s just my program keeping me alert, Lieutenant. There is no danger, but my sensors may have been damaged to some extent.” Hank peered at him for a moment, then grunted, allowing him to continue his story. His voice modulator was mostly repaired by now, after he ingested some thirium on the ride back, but it still fuzzed periodically.

Connor was a terrible liar.

You rubbed your eyes and slid off the desk you'd been sitting on, mumbling something about grabbing a coffee and processing everything.

Your hands worked on their own, going through the familiar motions of making coffee and ignoring Gavin’s snide comments, and the subsequent smack Chris gave him a moment later. You tried to be tired. You tried to look as though you felt nothing but relief after finding Connor, and you did, of course. But in that moment he looked so _scared._ You were still on edge, and the coffee probably wouldn’t help, but even just the routine of it helped ground you.

Warm coffee in hand, you meandered back to your desk, a few rows behind the others and took a breath. Last time you had been captured it took only a few hours for the DPD to break down the door and heave you out of harms way. That experience was doubtless the worst you’d been through. Connor was there for _5_ _days_ , and now he sat politely on a chair discussing the methods of torture as easily as one would discuss the latest chapter in a book club.

It seemed like hours had passed while you wrote notes and filled forms, until someone took the cold coffee from your desk and replaced it with a fresh, steaming one. You looked up, mirroring the small smile on the android's face. Connor looked almost good as new by now, wearing police-issued jacket and trousers, barely a faint blue tinge to his cheek and hair styled neatly as usual. “Detective, I’d like a moment to speak with you outside, please.”

You nodded after a moment and followed him with the new mug, noticing the apprehensive trace in his voice, and how he didn’t look back to see if you were following. You’d always been good at reading people, seeing what they were thinking by the way they moved or positioned themselves. The edge of their voice. The colour of their LED.

The moment the door closed behind you Connor dropped the façade, stepping up close to you. “There’s something wrong with me,” he said your name in a whisper, almost pleading. “I’m not sure why I’m feeling this way, why I’m feeling at _all_ , but it’s difficult to remain calm. The Lieutenant keeps pestering me about why I helped him instead of chasing the deviant, _accomplishing my mission._ The only person here who hasn’t drilled me for information is you, Detective.”

You blinked, absorbing it all. “My sensors are perfectly intact, I-“ he hesitated “I lied to Hank. The reason my LED is sensing danger is because it has discovered a fault in my programming.”

Your eyes widened, because he _knows._ Connor is a deviant and he knows and its terrifying him. “Connor-“ you started, trying to calm him.

“You already saw it, though. The look on your face when you found me was enough of a giveaway. Another android in my position would likely have become a deviant by now. But I’m a prototype, my advanced AI knows I’m changing… and is trying to resist it.”

You could see the stress building inside him, threatening to overflow. His voice hitched and his chest heaved. So you did the only thing you could think of.

You hugged him.

Connor froze immediately, fully unprepared for this. You could almost feel the processors in his mind whirring, trying to think of what to do, how to respond. 

"It's alright. Whatever happens next, we're here for you," You spoke quietly against his chest. "He won't say it, but Hank cares about you-  _I care about you..._ You're not alone, Connor."

Connor slowly brought his arms to wrap snug around your body. Snow drifted from above and landed delicately between you. His voice was full of an uncharacteristic vulnerability. 

_"Thank you."_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!! its not much but i hope you liked it. its meant to be set a few weeks after the ortiz mission as the timeframe for the game is crazy short, so the characters are familiar but not massively close. for my first fic im kinda proud of it aha.


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